PHARMACOPGIAL VEGETABLE DRUGS. 
mood, brings a generous cup of wine, pressed from many grapes, 
to thee, Omelochilus. “Come, drink, comrade,” he said. “If thou 
dost taste this wine, no other of the gods will be more fit than thou 
to tempt the crude appetites of the cannibals.” 
And Omelochilus, not accustomed to the acid Grecian wine, 
drinking it, rages in frantic wrath, and would doubtless repay the 
jest with blows, but fears the well known strength and courage of 
the European deity. Therefore (to be quits with his tormen- 
tor.—S.) he bids the fruits advance to strife less cruel. They all 
stand forth in beautiful array, displaying their various products, 
and like Amazons they advance, with pictured armor. 
First in line, dishonored from lack of fruit,* stands Coca, a 
little tree, gleaming with slender stem. And Venus scoffs. “Truly, 
the race of American husbandmen have chosen with little judg- 
ment, coming into a contest as regards fertility with a dwarf eunuch 
as their leader.” The gods shout with laughter. But Mother 
Pachamama rebukes the bold goddess, and defends her loved Coca. 
“How greatly dost thou err, Cytherea! Truly, the lustful fertility 
of lovers is alone known to thee. Here, thou art a bad judge. My 
realms, lacking sex, are an unknown country to thee. Beyond all 
others, everywhere, the land is fertile. This tree at which you 
scoff, is perennially fertile, and ever swells with unnumbered fruits. 
Do you still laugh? See how full of leaves it is! In every leaf it 
bears a fruit. Nor will these leaves yield in usefulness to any 
fruits from any tree. These, by the wonderful gift of Pacchamacus 
Virococha (who was moved to pity by the coming hardships of the 
land, reduced to poverty because of its too great wealth), remaining 
for a time in the mouth, the juice trickling thence continuously to 
the stomach, restore the weak, made languid by long continued 
hunger and lengthened toil, and give back vigor to the limbs and 
strength to the weak body, tottering under its burden, in a manner 
such as you, Bacchus and Ceres, deities both, could never do. The 
Quitoita, carrying three of these as supplies for their journey, will 
sometimes endure for twice three days, and feasting abundantly 
upon these, will traverse the dreadful Andes, a frightful land, situ- 
ated among the highest clouds, the home of winds and rain and 
winter storm, and likewise thine, brave Coca, whom the warlike 
goddess Venus derides as an insignificant leader. Nor shalt thou 
be less esteemed for thy admirable qualities, illustrious Coca, than 
for thy services to mankind. The merchant fears not to seek thee 
here, to bear thee hence. Yearly he loads the groaning Vicugni 
and Paci in countless numbers with thy leaves, bringing a pleasing 
commerce to the wretched world.” : 
Thus speaks the mother Pachamama, her skin painted with 
numberless figures, and with a nod she bids Hovia to advance, 
Hovia, bearing fruits stony and despised, but ranking next in value 
(to those of Coca.—S.) though of different kind. 
*The shrub coca bears a creamy white flower, and a berry somewhat like a small cran- 
berry, red when immature. but darkening to nearly black. Of this Cowley was evidently 
unaware.—S. 
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